


Hadizah

by Fastforwardmotion



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:59:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fastforwardmotion/pseuds/Fastforwardmotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hadizah's backstory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tabati's

The Tabati family had always done what was proper. When Tanit Abula Tabati was selected as Prime Aqasix he performed his duty with pride until the very day of his assassination. When his son, the light-eyed Nazin Tabati, was promised to a dark-eyed woman of noble lineage, he married without complaint. True to tradition, the union between the two lead to the birth of an heir, and later a “spare” that was conceived to secure the lineage. It was with their third, unexpected child that the Tabatis had the most difficulty. 

Hadizah Ameena Tabati, third child to Lord Nazin Tabati, proved to be trouble quite literally from birth. Her emergence from the womb 36 weeks into the pregnancy left Hadizah weak and in need of constant care during early infancy. As she grew, Hadizah developed into a healthy child, but the strict restrictions on her activities remained the same.

She, like all noble daughters, was taught to read and write when she came of age. Her tutor, Qizia, was Nazin’s elder sister who had been widowed three years before Hadizah’s birth. Hadizah, as Nazin’s only dark eyed child, was repulsive to Qizia and she made little effort to hide it. She was harsh and strict and Hadizah grew to resent her wrinkled frown.

Her brothers, Tanet and Davaed, did not keep her company in these lessons. As heirs to the title, as well as light-eyes, both boys were trained with weaponry and diplomacy. They were taught at an early age the difference between dark eyes and light eyes, and held themselves at a higher standing than their sister. Hadizah did not enjoy their company.

Hadizah’s mother remained distant throughout her childhood. She only saw her on rare occasions when the family gathered for a formal meal. When Hadizah’s antics lead to her exile from the noble feasts, she only caught glimpses of her mother in passing. Seeing her left a sour taste in Hadizah’s mouth, and she convinced herself that she didn’t want to spend time with her mother anyways.

Nazin, too, was distant, but was often called upon when Hadizah got herself into trouble. Which, as she aged, became more and more frequent. As such, her relationship with her father was strained at best.

As she grew, Hadizah found it easiest to avoid her family altogether. She took interest in dancing, and as luck would have it, actually enjoyed the activity. She was a natural, and twice a year was given a day to showcase her skill.


	2. The Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadizah, Age 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of the dance is referenced from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sy3DEnGLwzw)

Hadizah stood calmly in a room off the main hall, securing the ornate gilded glove around her left hand. A crimson skirt cascaded seamlessly from her hips, its fabric patterned with delicate gold filigree. The top matched her skirt but the fabric ended just below her chest, leaving her midriff exposed. A pair of rubies studded her ears, and she left her hair loose to the waist. Hadizah studied herself in the mirror. The clothes were a gift from her mother. She’d insisted Hadizah dress well, though she still refused to see her child. Hadizah had stopped trying to decipher her mother’s priorities when she was still a young girl.

Content with her appearance, Hadizah opened the door to the stage. The hall was packed. A loud buzz of conversation filled the spacious auditorium. When Hadizah walked onto the stage, the conversation quieted to a murmur, and then silence as she stood, hands poised above her head. She gave a curt nod to the musicians and waited.

The song began slowly, a steady beat accompanied by the occasional trill of an instrument. Hadizah moved in synch with the tune. Her hands twisted intricate patterns above her head and her hips rolled in time with the drums.

She danced with the confident ease of practice, every move a calculated step in her routine. It was here, dancing in front of the crowd, that Hadizah felt truly in her element. There was no pretense here, no frowning tutor or cross parent, just the beat of the drums and her movement.

The music slowed to a wail, and Hadizah stooped down, baring the expanse of her leg through the silk of her skirts. She smiled at the audience and rose slowly, twisting her leg and turning her back to them. With the flick of her hips, the music sped up again, and Hadizah moved to match.

She noted, with no small amount of joy, that dancespren had joined her. The sprites took the form of translucent golden silk, and twisted around her arms and belly in time with the music.

She twisted back to face the auditorium and the music stopped, allowing the drums to beat out a fierce rhythm in staccato. Hadizah let the music guide her steps, each beat punctuating the steady movement of her hips.

Cymbals clashed and Hadizah stopped in pose. Her eyes closed and arms stretched above her. Silken spren spiraled down her form. Another clash and she moved, this time stopping with hands at her side and face to the audience. A third clash signaled the return of the melody. Hadizah fanned her hands back down her body and grabbed her skirts by the hem. With fabric in hand, Hadizah stood in place and shook her hips from side to side. Intricate footwork joined the swaying, and she moved in circles around the stage.

The drums came to an abrupt stop, and Hadizah paused, observing the audience. She held her arms out then rolled her chest, belly, and hips in a deliberate display of skill. The spren moved in vibrant golden circles around her outstretched arms.

With one final flourish, she turned in place. The music swelled around her, and the spren circled her entire body. She spun once, twice, and on the third turn she stopped, pulling a pose as the music came to a spectacular finale.

The crowd erupted in a stream of whoops and applause. Hadizah stood in pose, chest heaving as she caught her breath. She looked to the back of the room. Her parents sat in the place of honor, their faces straight, but hands clapping. Hadizah’s smile faltered as she took a flourished bow.


	3. The Archer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadizah, Age 15

The night air buzzed with the songs of arid insects, and moonlight streamed through the windows of the hall. A soft thunk reverberated through the room, followed instantly by a stream of colorful cursing.

Hadizah bent down to pick up the bow she'd dropped, then stalked up to the target and pulled her arrows from the outermost ring. 

“Truly there cannot be a worse bowman in all of Azir," she voiced to the empty training room. Three months prior, after a drawn out argument with her father, she was allowed to skip her tutelage sessions in favor of archery practice. And to what end? Countless hours of practice and she still couldn’t get the arrows centered on the infuriating target.

When she'd collected all her errant arrows, Hadizah returned to her mark. She steadied her breathing, nocking the arrow and aiming it toward the center ring. She counted three breaths and on the third, loosed the arrow. The projectile soared through the air, path sure as it flew past the target and embedded soundly in the wooden wall behind. Hadizah blew a frustrated sigh into her bangs.

Arrows whizzed through the air in quick succession, every miss punctuated by an increasingly vile string of expletives. Again and again she shot at the target to no avail. Finally, in one last exasperated attempt, Hadizah swapped hands, pulling the bowstring with her left arm. Purely out of spite, if nothing else. The arrow sped through the air and embedded soundly in the target. Right through the center. Hadizah squealed in triumph. A few more shots to the center of the target proved the technique skill as opposed to luck and Hadizah was overjoyed.

The following day, Hadizah refused to attend her archery lessons. To the rest of the castle it seemed Hadizah had abandoned her zeal for archery. But at night, when the training grounds lay empty, Hadizah fired with incredible accuracy, pulling the bow with her left hand.


	4. The Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadizah, Age 17

Due to her frequent late-night visits to the training room, Hadizah had grown accustomed to sneaking through the palace unnoticed. The castle was peaceful at night, maze-like hallways populated only by the infrequent rounds of the night-guard. Hadizah knew their path well, and avoided them with ease. She turned a corner and ran headlong into a servant.

The servant let out a cry as both girls went tumbling. Hadizah landed on top of the girl.

“WHAT-”

“Shh, shh, shh!” Hadizah shifted her weight and placed a hand over the girl’s mouth. “I’m not supposed to be here, so I need you to be quiet. Can you do that?”

The servant nodded, wide eyed, and Hadizah removed her hand. She moved to stand, then helped the servant up.

The girl recovered from her shock, and turned to curtsy, “I’m so sorry, my lady.”

Hadizah waved a hand, “none of that please. I’m not my mother. What are you doing out here? I thought everyone was asleep.”

“Oh!” The girl stooped down to pick up the basket that had toppled in the chaos. “I… Forgot to collect herbs yesterday. As I was falling asleep I remembered! So I ran out to the garden and now we can have some fresh rosemary and lemongrass come morning.” The girl smiled, obviously proud of her quick thinking. 

“...Why?” Hadizah asked.

“To… Cook? For breakfast.”

Hadizah laughed, “Oh, of course. Apologies, I'm afraid I'm not at all familiar with the process of cooking. My studies have focused on less... practical things. ”

“Truly?” The girl asked.

“Truly.”

The servant regarded Hadizah for a minute, hummed softly, then made up her mind.

“Follow me" she whispered, grabbing Hadizah hand. Hadizah followed behind, smiling slyly at the bobbing brown curls of the servant girl. 

"Where are you taking me?" She asked. 

The girl turned her head, shooting Hadizah a smile that mirrored her own, "you'll find out in a minute." 

Hadizah’s heart beat wildly in her chest as the girl pulled her through the winding halls of the servant’s quarters. Finally, the girl came to a stop in the middle of a large, dimly lit room. 

“The... Kitchens?" Hadizah blinked at the servant, brows knit in confusion. 

"Yes!" The girl smiled brilliantly at Hadizah, "you said you didn't know how to cook, so I thought I'd show you." 

Hadizah shifted her weight from foot to foot, eyes roaming the expanse of the empty room. It was large, filled with flour dusted counters and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through stout windows. Hadizah continued her circle, dark green irises settling on the dimpled face of the servant girl.

"Alright," Hadizah said. She took a step forward and offered the girl a deep bow, “teach me what you know."

The servant giggled and scurried off to the pantry to find some supplies.


	5. The Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadizah, Age 17, 2 months later

Every night thereafter Hadizah would seek out the girl and set to work in the kitchens. The girl, Naima, was only a year younger than Hadizah, but she retained a vast knowledge of common recipes. Hadizah, who was not by any means a good cook, enjoyed their lessons immensely. In fact, she couldn't remember a time when she'd been happier. Even the wrinkled scowl of her tutor or the haughty pride of her brothers couldn't do much to dampen her mood. 

One night, after undercooking a batch of baklava, Hadizah turned to the girl, eyes dancing with mischief. Naima’s face bloomed into a smile. "What is it?" She asked. 

Hadizah grabbed her hand and took off running, pulling the girl behind her. "Follow me!" She called over her shoulder. Naima stifled a laugh, stumbling over herself to keep up. 

The pair of girls ran quietly through the servant’s quarters, out through the gardens, and into the training hall. When the doors shut behind them, both broke out into breathless giggles. 

"Why are we here?" Naima asked between breaths. Hadizah reached into the training racks and pulled out a bow and quiver. She wiggled the weapon at the girl then wiggled her eyebrows. 

"I wanted to show you something." 

Hadizah sauntered forward and took her mark. She winked back at Naima, then pulled up her left sleeve and aimed a shot at the practice target. With a soft thump the arrow embedded deep in the center ring. 

Naima clapped, and walked around into Hadizah’s periphery. "That was magnificent, Dizah!" She said. "Though your technique is... A bit scandalous, don't you think?" 

Hadizah’s smile broadened. She took another breath, and then loosed a second arrow. It flew straight, and landed but a finger breadth from the first. She turned to face Naima, dipping into a low bow. 

“The technique is unorthodox, but it serves me well." 

Naima laughed again then walked to Hadizah’s side. The girl grabbed her left hand and examined the patterned leather glove. Hadizah blushed slightly, fingers twitching under Naima’s gaze.


	6. The Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadizah, Age 18

The nights following that one were spent in more than just cooking. Some nights Hadizah would teach Naima to shoot, on others they would stroll silently through the herb garden, avoiding the patrol of the guards. Sometimes the pair would dance together to imagined music, and on some nights they would simply sit in Hadizah’s room each enjoying the other’s presence. 

A few weeks later, in the early hours of a summer morning the pair collapsed into bed breathless and giggling. Hadizah ran fingers through her thick black hair, pushing it from her forehead.

"You almost woke the entire castle with that screech, truly. It is a miracle we got up here without getting caught."

She turned to face the girl, tucking her hands under her flushed cheek. Naima smiled and opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the slam of bedroom doors. Lord Tabati stalked in, flanked by a pair of guards.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Naima started up, shuffling to stand as she offered a quick bow. Hadizah remained sprawled on the bed, exasperated sigh already on her lips. 

“Peace father. We were just having some harmless fun. You remember the term, I hope?" 

“Who is this?” Lord Tabati demanded. He turned his gaze Naima, “Speak! Who are you?”

Naima bowed low, eye cast downward, “Naima, my lord.”

Hadizah sat up in the bed, rolling her eyes. She hated seeing Naima like this. “Leave her be, father, she was only here to keep me company.”

Lord Tabati studied Naima, noting her black irises and threadbare clothing. “Naima.” The name was bitter on his tongue, “do servants come up here often to keep you company?”

“No, father. I do not often keep the company of servants. Though would you be so surprised if I did? Ever since you banned me from speaking with the noble pricks who frequent this prison, I’ve had nobody to talk to. No one in this cursed family will speak to me, and I’m relegated to the dull company of my ancient tutor, or the Chulls in the stables. Perhaps we should be surprised that this didn’t happen sooner.” Hadizah knew she was digging a deeper hole for herself, but she couldn’t resist smirking at the violent shade of crimson that was creeping up her father’s face.

“As it stands,” she continued, “Naima here has been a better friend for me these last few months than I’ve had in my entire—” Hadizah stopped short, eyes wide as she realized that she had revealed too much.

“Few months?!” Lord Tabati’s voice pierced the tense silence of the room "Seize the girl, I want her out of this house." 

Hadizah hurried to stand, placing herself between the guards and her friend. 

“You can't do this! She's done nothing wrong!"

“Ignorant child! Are you so determined to reign shame on your family? Step aside."

Hadizah glanced back at the girl. Her eyes were wide and glassy as she stared at the floor. Anger welled in Hadizah’s chest.

"No! You can't do this!"

Lord Tabati marched over to her. He towered over the girls, standing a head and shoulders taller than both. When he spoke his tone was low and dangerous.

“You forget to whom you speak, girl. Move aside. Now.”

But Hadizah stood defiantly. Lord Tabati sighed and pulled at her arm, shoving her forcefully toward one of the guards. The second guard lunged for Naima and dragged her off. Hadizah could see the servant’s slight frame shaking against the guards hold as she disappeared behind the door frame. 

“Stop! Father please!" Hadizah blinked furiously against the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She fought against guards iron group, but it was too late. Naima and the guard had disappeared through the door, and her father followed close behind.

A few minutes later, tears streaking her cheeks, Hadizah slumped in the guard's grip. When she stopped struggling the guard steadied her, offered a bow, and retreated from the room. She heard the lock click shut behind him.

It was in that moment Hadizah decided to run.


	7. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadizah, Age 18, 1 month later

The escape from the castle was quick and silent. With some pilfered supplied, clothes, and her practice bow, Hadizah made her way through the castle, silent as a shade. She avoided the guards, as always, but this time it was different. This time she had a purpose beyond archery practice. Beyond even finding Naima. She had asked about the servant, but nobody seemed to know where she went. She had no home in Azir and Hadizah doubted she’d ever see the girl again.

As she traversed the halls, Hadizah found herself in front of the monument to her grandfather. Tanit Tabati’s statue stood seven feet tall, cold stone eyes staring at her in disapproval. 

"What are you looking at?" She said, sneering. She approached the monument, fingers running across the glass display cases at its base. Each showcased a single item supposedly belonging to the dead Prime. Some old polished armor, a longsword, a gilded shield and... A magnificent bow! How had she never noticed it before? 

Hadizah walked over, lock-picking tools already out of her bag.

“Don’t worry beautiful,” She said, “I’ll get you out of there.”

Hadizah set to work, and within minutes the lock popped opened with a satisfying click. She grasped at the grip of the bow, pulling it from its perch. The warbow was solid, a balanced weight in her hand. Ten stormlight gemstones studded its length, accenting the weapon’s powerful curves. Hadizah ran her fingers over the polished wood. An intricate battle scene played out in its carvings. Horse mounted cavalry rode against the cowering forms of the enemy. The riders were smiling, weapons raised in triumph. Even in the dim light of the evening, the bow was a marvel.

Hadizah unstrapped her own bow and laid it in the display. She then removed her scarf and wrapped it around the older bow, placing it reverently at her back. 

"Hopefully, no one will even notice you're gone," she whispered to it.

She secured the packaged bow, then continued her escape.

The plan went through without a hitch. She continued her path through the castle, over the garden walls, and into the city proper. She followed a route she’d mapped out the weeks prior. By dawn, Hadizah found herself on a departing passenger ship, she hadn’t even bothered to ask where it was headed.


	8. The Smuggler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadizah, Age 20

Hadizah studied her glass, swirling the yellow liquid as she pretended to ponder her course of action. The drink was vile, it's flavor a mixed bouquet of what she could only describe as sewage or cat piss. And judging by the color and consistency, cat piss might not have been too far off. But she wasn't one to complain, not when it came to alcohol. She downed the wine then tossed a handful of diamond chips into the growing pile at the center of the table. 

"I'll see Mike's bet and raise ten chips.”

Hadizah sat at the table with five other smugglers. Petty criminals who she'd grown to call friends over the past two years. Mahir to her right was Azish like her, but of lower birth and ten years her senior. He wore black leather, and fought with twin blades and poison. Across from them sat Janey and Geralt, both were Alethi dark eyes. Janey was blonde and petite, but she hefted a great sword as though it wasn’t as long as her and twice her weight. Geralt was… Well he wasn't her husband, but they were as close to that as either was willing to admit. From what Hadizah had pieced together, they'd been lovers for 8 years, with no intention of cementing the bond. All three of them, Mahir, Janey, and Geralt, had already folded. The only people left in the game were Damian, Michael, and herself.

Damian, to her left, was the leader of their little operation. He was Thaylen by birth, and had the long eyebrows to prove it. He let out a huff and lay his cards face down on the table. 

"Too rich for me" he muttered. 

Hadizah smiled at the man and turned to face Michael.

"I guess it's just you and me, then."

Michael, blonde like Janey, and her brother by blood, squinted at his cards. He ran his fingers along the table, let out a sigh, and then met Hadizah’s bet with ten chips of his own.

"What've you got?" He asked.

Hadizah made a show of flipping her cards up, one at a time.

“Let's see here. A pair of Royals... two princes and… The whit!” Hadizah flipped up her final card, triumphant smile spreading on her lips.

Geralt let out a low whistle and Michael tossed his cards face up on the surface. Two princes. A good hand, but vastly inferior to her own. He leaned back and pinched bridge of his nose.

“That's 3 games tonight! Not even a storm blessed would be this lucky.”

“He's right!” Said Mahir beside her, “you hiding something up that fancy sleeve of yours?”

Hadizah gasped, hand over her heart in mock offense.

“Good sir, I am a lady! The only things up my sleeve are my left hand and my life's savings.”

Janey let out a guffaw from across the table.

“Dizah, the only thing ladylike about you is that fortune you keep hidden up there. You don’t even wear the damn sleeve most of the time.”

“A point I find quite suspicious!” Geralt chimed in.

“He's Right...” Michael said, eyeing Hadizah’s left arm.

Hadizah grasped the appendage to her chest, lips pressed together to hold back giggles. “You wouldn't.”

“You underestimate me, my lady. Mahir, would you do the-”

A sharp knock silenced the room. The smugglers stilled, shooting questioning glances across the table. All eyes turned to the door as the knock rang out again.

Damian was first to stand. "Anyone expecting company?" Everyone shook their heads, unsheathing weapons and getting to their feet.

With a dagger at his back, Damian approached the door. The security chain rattled as he cracked it open, just enough to see to the other side. Two armored figures stood on the stoop.

"May I help you, sirs?" He asked.

"We've been informed that Hadizah Tabati was seen entering this residence." The first one said. His Alethi was coherent, but weighted heavily with an Azish accent.

Damian glanced back into the room. Hadizah had pulled her hood up around her ears, and Michael was pushing her toward the back room.

The second guard spoke up, "We do not care what other activities are going on here, just give us the girl and we will leave you in peace."

"I'm... Sorry. There is no one here by that name." Damian replied.

Hadizah mouthed a 'thank you' to Damian then watched the door click shut behind  
Michael.

“This way,” he pointed, “we've only got a few minutes before the guards get tired of Damian and force their way in.”

Hadizah nodded absently. How did they find her? She'd been so careful. The pair walked down the steps in silence. A few minutes later a commotion rang out overhead. Michael shuffled her into the cellar, then stopped in front of some unmarked bags. He stooped down to push them aside.

"I knew this tunnel would come in handy." He said with a grunt. He shifted the bags to reveal a small hatch, about a shoulder's width across. With little effort he hoisted it open and ushered Hadizah forward.

"Hurry. If you follow the tunnels you should get to the docks by sunrise. Look for Chanon, she's got a sturdy little boat, could take you as far as Kharbranth."

"Thanks."

Hadizah gave his shoulder a squeeze then leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Say goodbye to the rest of the crew for me." she whispered. She pulled back, then turned on heel and jumped down the hatch in one swift motion.

"See you in the next life," Hadizah called up behind her. Then she ran.


End file.
